Drug Addict.

I have written this poem about a young man's addiction to drugs. It is not about me. But I did know a few young people who lost.

The Cruel Mistress.

He used to have a mother sort
But was not his mother’s son
Never knew her much at all
After he was twenty-one.

Twenty-one, twenty-one
Reaching tall and strong
But never knew a father’s hand
To show him right from wrong.

She held him in the vices grip
Promising the very best
No invigilator shows the way
He failed the hardest test.

Feathers in the mattress
Are the only soft caress
A pillow gives scant comfort
From anguish and distress.

Take him home
Take the bad man home
Take him home
Take the bad man home.

Sheets the lovers laid upon
Once fresh with a young man’s dream
Now discarded rumpled knots
Hidden by the liar’s screen.

She will come back again for sure
Hold him in sweet embrace once more
Just one more time, she says
Yes, yes, hear him implore.

Has he seen her liar’s face?
Has he seen her liar’s face?
Look into her liar's face.
Look into her liar's face.